


Talking to Myself (on hold)

by literarygoddess



Category: 6 Underground (2019), Bohemian Rhapsody (Movie 2018), Bohemian Rhapsody (Movie 2018) Actor RPF, EastEnders (TV) RPF, Only the Brave (2017), The Woman in White - Wilkie Collins
Genre: Angst, Ben Hardy - Freeform, Ben is soft, California, Emotionally Abusive Parents, Eventual Smut, F/M, Family Drama, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, I'm trying a slow-ish burn, Interviews, Long-Distance Relationship, Other, Siblings, adding tags as I go, borhap cast is awesome, freelance writer oc, his accent needs a tag
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-30
Updated: 2020-01-06
Packaged: 2021-02-27 14:53:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,869
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22028875
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/literarygoddess/pseuds/literarygoddess
Summary: Tyler Hollis is a writer and journalist in California who is living life as it rolls. By chance she gets to interview Ben Hardy, but it's just all in a day's work.The rest, as they say, is history.Almost..
Relationships: Ben Hardy/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 7
Kudos: 13





	1. Part one

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Tyler conducts an interview with Ben Hardy

"Five minutes Tyler."

I look up and offer the PA a smile, thanking her before she returns the gesture and walks away. 

I like my job; it's not hard and it pays okay. Everyone thinks that being a freelance writer sucks and is killer on the income, but I really don't need much anyway: I'm only one person. I write for pop culture blogs and sometimes for magazines. I haven't done anything major yet and I'm still a part-timer at Target, but that's life. I've been told I'm relentlessly optimistic. 

I did go to college; I got a bachelor's in journalism and minored in fine arts. My parent's thought it was a waste, but I have my own apartment in Ventura and I was taught how to budget—I'm not stupid with my money. I had dreamed of fame like any child growing up in California; I always wanted to be an actor or a singer—I'm good at both—but life always crept in. I did the next best thing, and now I get to interview the actors and singers; I like to think I live vicariously through them.

"Tyler! Let's go!" 

"I'm coming; I promise," I say to the PA. I think her name is Anne? Yes; it's Anne. I don't usually work with her, but I'm filling in for another interviewer who's sick. 

"Well he's waiting!" She grabs my arm to herd me into the studio. "Do you have the cards?" 

I hold them up, plucked from the pocket of my denim jacket. "I'm prepared, don't worry. Geez, you're practically sweating Annie." She groans and pushes the door open for me. "Who am I interviewing again?" 

Anne's head falls with a groan. "His name is Ben Hardy..."

"Right," I nod, "and he's..."

"He played Roger."

"In Bohemian Rhapsody, got it. Yes. Thank you!" Anne shoos me off, shaking her head. I was only half-joking with her; I knew the movie and everything, but I didn't quite know his name. 

In the studio, everything is already set up and the cameraman rolls his eyes at me when I blow in. I silently apologize and readjust the mic clipped to my jacket. He nods towards the set and I peek around the camera to find Ben already seated and waiting. He's typing on his phone, but it's just my luck that he looks up just as I lean around the camera. I dart back behind the equipment and I swear I hear a chuckle. 

"We're all set to go," the cameraman informs me, "when you are." 

"Is that sarcasm?" I quip. 

"Always." He grins; his name is Jarred, I think. I've worked with him a bit, and he's always nice. "Now go." He lightly shoves my shoulder. 

I laugh and stumble a bit at the push, tossing my hair out of my eyes. "Hi," I greet before I even look up, "I'm Tyler Hollis." 

"Ben Hardy," Ben says. He's wearing an easy smile that suits him well. I blink a few times, holding out my hand; he's British. "Nice to meet you." He half gets up to shake my hand. His grip is firm; good, I hate bad handshakes. 

I exhale, cough, and shuffle my question cards as I take my seat. Jarred counts back from three before he begins rolling and I pause before smiling to the camera. I give the usual intro and my name, the name of the move, and Ben's name before turning to him. 

"So how are you today?" I prop one foot up on the bottom rung of my chair and look up at Ben with my patented Work Smile. He chuckles and readjusts himself in the chair. I don't blame him; these chairs are supposed to look like typical set chairs from a movie, but they're uncomfortable as hell. "I hope the weather has been nice." 

"Oh yeah," he agrees, "weather's been great. Much better than back home where it rains all the time." 

I'm glad to find that I don't feel like i need to rush or force anything: these are the best types of interview. Most people would be surprised to know that interviewing celebrities that I don't know much about is more enjoyable. It's easier to see them for who they are rather than all the hype; not that hype is always bad, but it is nice to get to know someone from scratch with no preconceptions. 

"So," I read over the first card, "let's talk about BoRhap." 

"Yes! Let's." 

I stifle a smile. I enjoy the goofy ones who make the job interesting. It's awful when someone is too into the interview to have fun. "You play Roger Taylor, the Drummer of Queen," he nods, "what's that like: playing such a famous rockstar on film?" 

"Oh gosh!" He laughs and shakes his head. "It's an amazing experience and it's something that I'm so lucky that I got the chance to do, you know. It was great to be able to portray someone whom I admire and to have him actually there on set. It still blows my mind every day, yeah."

It _sounds_ amazing. I really enjoy the way he speaks about it; the fact that he's passionate about the role is gladdening. "I think that sounds wonderful," I agree, flipping cards. "Uh, so.. I hear you filmed Live Aid on day one." 

"Oh gosh!" 

"That's pretty amazing: to put together the climactic scene of the movie so soon. Did you and your cast mates get along right away?"

Ben rubs a hand over his chin, looking at his shoes with a bright smile. "I mean, yeah. It was pretty much," he clasps his hands together, "there from the start. The guys are all great and they're always good for a laugh. They made me feel welcome and they made coming to work every day feel not like a job, you know." 

I nod along, drawn into his charisma. "And you all still keep in touch?" 

"Oh my gosh yes! We talk a lot still and it's sad to think that it's almost over for real." He rubs his hands together. "After the Oscars, it's goodbye for good—well not to them, but to the movie." 

I mumble an affirmative agreement, moving on to the next question. "So, what is... What's your favorite Queen song?"

Ben smiles like I've just said something beyond hilarious. "Well you see, we all get very attached to our characters on the set," I nod in agreement; he snickers, "and whenever someone mentions _any_ song by Roger I just—" He bounces in his chair and I laugh completely now. "Boom! That's the one, you know. _that's_ the best song, no question. 'I'm In Love With My Car' all the way." 

I keep laughing, unable to stop. I try to speak through it, dissolving into laughter again which causes Ben to laugh more as well. "Oh my _god!_ " I wipe my eyes, feeling tears forming. 

"You alright?" Ben chuckles, leaning down to catch my eyes. 

"Oh my goodness; I'm okay! Let's move one before we run out of time." I shuffle the cards, looking for a good one to end on before I customarily ask about his holiday plans and give the sign off. "Oh boy," I clear my throat, "this is a good one. Kiss, marry, or kill your fellow bandmates." 

"Oh no!" Ben's hands fly up to his face and his cheeks pink slightly. "That's an awful question!" He looks around the room, thinking frantically. "Can I not kill any of them? God, I don't want them to hate me." 

I shake my head, amused. "You gotta pick." 

"Agh! Oh... I guess I'd kiss Rami, marry Joe and—" He looks pained. "I have to?" I nod over-enthusiastically. "I'm gonna regret this: I have to kill Gwilym." He drops his face into his hands, muttering. 

"Yay!" I pump my hand in the air. "You did it." 

" _I'm_ gonna be the one killed now!" He lifts his head with a wry grin. 

"I'll dutifully attend the funeral, don't worry—"

"I'm so relieved. Tell Frankie I love her—my dog." 

I laugh and agree to do so. "Last question: got any special plans for the holidays?" 

"Ah, I dunno. I'm just spending some time with my family, I s'pose. Nothing special." He shrugs and leans back in his seat. 

"No, no; I think family is definitely special. I hope you all have a happy Christmas and a good new year!" I cross my feet at the ankles, looking down as Ben tries to catch my eyes. "Well! That's all for today," I begin to sign off, feeling Ben staring the whole time. Jarred gives a thumbs-up once the camera is off and I immediately hop off the chair. 

"Hey," I look up, "good job." Ben says it like a question. 

"Oh no; I should be the one thanking you for coming." I stuff the cards back in my pocket, keeping my hands there. Jarred isn't paying attention as he fiddles with the camera, doing whatever it is that cameramen do. "You're good at this." I nod around the room. 

Ben half-smiles, standing up and stepping into personal conversation distance. "So're you..." He tucks his hands into his jeans. If I didn't know better I'd say he looked nervous. "Good at this stuff, I mean." 

"Yeah, uh, thanks." I tuck my hair back behind my ears. 

"Listen," he exhales sharply, "you seem really nice and if you aren't busy after this would you like to grab some coffee?" 

I'm taken aback. It's not the first time someone has asked me that, but it just seems... odd? I only know him as this Ben I met today and not as the movie-star-playing-a-rock-legend Ben he is to the world. I can say yes; he's probably just being nice. British people always seem nice. "Oh! I'd love too, yeah. I'm not busy." 

His face cracks into a grin. 

"Let me grab my things and clock out; I know a good place." I wave goodbye to Jarred and push the door open for Ben on the way out. He holds back to catch it for me instead; how gentlemanly. "So do they just let you roam free? Don't you have people that are supposed to babysit you?"

He laughs behind me. "Yes I have people, sadly. We have mostly free reign; they're just supposed to keep us on schedule, but today is an off day. This is my only interview today and I'd love to spend some time with such a nice girl who laughs at my terrible funny comments." 

I hide my burning face as I enter my office to grab my things.


	2. Part Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which Ben and Tyler go out for coffee after their interview

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sOrRy this took longer than I expected! School is back and killing me :) so joy

It was like acrobatics trying to get to the café. Ben's publicist kept stalling him and I pretended not to hear her telling him that it was a bad idea to go out with me alone. Anne didn't want me to leave either because "it won't take long to do the web transcript; please? Jarred already has the tape and I know you're a great typist—" I was able to placate her by promising to do it tonight and she begrudgingly handed over the flash drive with the interview on it. 

I apologized about fifty times to Ben on the drive over; he kept assuring me it was fine with a winning smile that was actually starting to win me over. Having a celebrity in my car turned out to be less weird than I first expected. The closest I had ever been in the past was when I took the same bus as Maggie Nelson whom I only realized was there when a fellow passenger expressed surprise to me about her appearance; I had had to google her later too. 

We ended up at an out-of-the-way café that I knew wouldn't be crowded—if it ever was. The food and beverages weren't bad, at least I didn't think so. It was nestled into a side street and the entrance was in an alley, so not many people knew where to look. The only identifying sign was a wooden one hanging above the door which had once been metal and foreboding like others of its kind but had since been replaced by a wood and glass door to let in more light and seem welcoming. 

"I've never heard of... Mary Lin's?" Ben squinted at the sign as I twisted the handle and the chimes above the door jangled. 

"Not many people have. I'd like to keep it that way, too." I eyed him. "So no signal boosting this place, Mr. Famous; okay?" He held up his hands in surrender, and I nodded my thanks.

Inside, only three other patrons occupied tables: a student, assumably, and two guys who looked like the indie-influencer type. They didn't even look up when the two of us walked up to the counter. Ben hovered behind me, studying them menu. "I'm not _that_ famous," I caught him mutter. 

"'Scuse me?" 

"I'm not," he retorted. I snorted. "I've been in... two movies. And a British soap. And some plays. But that doesn't mean anything—"

"Can I help you?" I smile thankfully at the woman behind the counter for cutting Ben off. Her name is Ms. Lin and she knows me well enough to not need to ask my order. 

"She's talking to you; Starboy." I nudge his arm with my shoulder, taking a step back. He looks down at me with a tight expression. 

"Can I have... ah. I'd like an earl grey tea—medium—with sugar." He half turns back to me. 

"Oh, no. I'm a regular, no need." 

He scoffs and turns back to Ms. Lin who informs us that the total is eight dollars and sixty cents. "I got it," Ben says before I can hand Ms. Lin my card. He pays in cash. 

"You didn't have to do that," I protest needlessly. Ben remains quiet, looking about the cafe as I make my way to a booth to the right of the counter. 

"But I did," he says. "Why this place?" 

"Hm?" I lean back on the bench seat, leaning my head against the wall. 

"Why here? How did you find it?" He slides in across from me, still looking around. The walls are bleach-washed concrete with vintage coffee posters hung up in pleasing intervals paired with a few Asian idols and other like symbols. The counter is set back into the wall behind us with a door that leads to the kitchen. It's made of dark wood and there's a glass case full of various baked goods on top next to the cash register. The sole window is up near the ceiling behind Ben's head; it lets in slats of light that fall in thin rectangles on the floor. 

I shrug and cross my arms comfortably across my chest. "I walk around town sometimes and it was just here. I'm a curious type, so of course I went to investigate." Ben smiles and I reflexively smile in return. "I stayed for the heavenly coffee cake and tasteful décor." It's only partially a joke. 

"You wouldn't be an interviewer if you weren't curious, yeah?" 

"Who knows," I mutter. I've taken to idly tracing my finger around the tabletop and once I realize, I pull my hand back and tuck my thumb against my lips, chewing on the nail. I don't know why now of all times I'm feeling nervous.

Ben's eyes implore me to elaborate. 

"I love writing," I divulge. "I have been since I was able to form complex sentences. It's kinda what I went to school for, but...."

He nods. Ms. Lin silently delivers Ben's tea and mine along with the customary coffee cake. I'm thankful for the interruption yet again as I thank her and pull the cup to the edge of the table, wrapping both hands around the warmth. 

"I love the way she brews the green tea here... Funny that you asked me for coffee and here we are both having tea." I laugh to myself, smiling down at the table. 

"Well.. you're American. Isn't that what you all drink?" When I look up his face is twisted in a mirthful grin. 

"And you're the perfect stereotype, Mr. Famous, with your earl grey and your accent." 

"You have no _idea_ ," he chuckles. "I can make it sound more posh if you want?" 

"It's a hard pass, but you've been entertaining enough as it is." I shake my head and take a sip of the still-steaming tea, finding a complex swirl in the tabletop very interesting. I know I make conversation with people for a living, but I don't know what to say right now. It's not like I'm intimidated or anything—actually, far from it.. I think—but I am flustered, I suppose. It was reflex to come here; something told me Ben would like it here. I've never brought anyone here before. In a state where everything is so glorified and sought after I wanted something private, and this was it.

"Hey?" Ben's face wears slight worry and somehow still looks light. "You okay?" I stifle a laugh at how typical the question is. I don't hold it against him, but I thought my pensivity was obvious. 

"Uh.. yeah, um," I pick up the fork resting on the plate of cake and twist it in my fingers, "I just haven't taken anyone here before is all." I like privacy, but I see no sense in diverting the answer from him. He's just a nice guy who asked me for coffee. Plenty of nice guys have asked me for more _and_ less. Besides, the chances of us meeting again are low. It is entirely possible that we could, but I won't count my chickens. 

Ben's eyebrows furrow a bit and he only nods, leaning back in his seat. I wonder passingly if I might have offended him. "Well, I guess that makes me lucky, huh?" His lips pull into a smile for a moment as he lifts his cup. 

I dip my head in laughter, momentarily dropping the fork with a clatter. "Yeah, uh; I guess so," I quip cheerily. We stifle laughter behind cups of tea and our hands, each time we meet eyes breaks us down again and I only stop when one of the other patrons looks over at us, annoyed. Upon the reminder that we aren't, in fact, alone, I reach across the table and grab Ben's forearm. I frantically shush him through giggles and offer what I hope is an admonishing glare. "This is the _second_ time you've done this!" 

" _Me_?" 

I nod furiously. "Yes it was _so_ your fault at the interview. God... That's getting posted online; oh lord, no." I drop my forehead into my palm, half-horrified. 

"Don't worry; I told you: I'm not that famous." 

I give him a look that says 'shut the fuck up.' He looks sarcastically away from it as if he didn't see and sips his tea in mock ignorance. "I can't stand you," I declare.

"Ouch," he sets the mug down only to clasp a hand to his heart, "that hurts." 

"Oh! I _bet_." I grin ruefully and pick up my fork again, stabbing it into the cake; I feel Ben studying me. "D'you want some?" 

"Only if you're offering and not saying that out of courtesy." 

We end up staying at the café for a few hours and we share the cake. Ben talks about how he got into acting, and I tell him about college and how I hope one day to work for a recognized media company. He says I will and I'm thankful for the enthusiasm. I used to think that soap operas were pointless and actually dumb, but I'm already making a mental note to look up the one he was in.. just in case. 

"This was... nice." It's a cliché and empty thing to say, but I mean it. "Thanks again." I slide out of the booth. "For paying—for the... stuff." 

He follows suit and I begin to walk towards the door. Once outside, I realize that it's getting late. "It wasn't a problem at all." He squints into the setting sun and then down at me. "Thanks for humoring my offer, Tyler." 

When he says my name I feel my chest squeeze. For some reason I didn't think he'd remember my name. I'm glad he does. "Thanks for being... just, _not_ a douche." 

"Are most people you interview?" He wants to laugh; I can see it. 

"No. No, uh... Just most people that ask me out for dates," I say bitterly. I realize what I've said too late to take it back. "N-not that this... is a date, but—" I run a hand though my hair and look away, cheeks burning. 

"If that's what word comes to mind, then sure—it's a date," Ben teases. I know he heard my negative tone, so I'm grateful that he's trying to lighten things. 

"Do you, uh," I rock back on my heels, hands on hips, "need a ride anywhere?" 

"I can hail a taxi... Or call one of the guys." He says it so casually that it takes me a second to realize he means his cast mates. 

"Okay," I stick out a hand, "It was nice talking with you, Ben." He looks down at my hand and back up at my face without making a move, so I pull away hesitantly. 

His face jerks into worry. "Oh! No; I—I didn't mean..." He pushes his hair back. "I'm sorry." He looks flustered. "I wanted to ask for your phone number." 

He says it like a question; I nearly gasp. "Oh!" He nods and his cheeks are a little red. "Um... Y-yeah; of course." I can't help but feel a swell of pride that someone famous wants my number. Maybe I'm making first steps somewhere. 

He pulls his phone from his pocket and I recite the number to him which he dutifully types in. "I want to know that you make it home safe." 

_Oh._ "I'll text you when I get there," I promise. "See ya, Ben." 

"Yeah... see ya, Tyler," he mimics. There's an awkward moment before he reaches out to pull me into a hug. It's brief but enjoyable. I smile over my shoulder as I walk away. 

Once I reach my car, theres already a message from an unknown number.

**Had to make sure you gave me a real number**

I shake my head, grinning like and idiot. 

**yes! tis I!! Tyler of the coffee shop**

I drive home, singing along to the radio the whole way. I feel a profound lightness in my chest, and I welcome it with open arms. Once I'm parked, as promised, I text Ben (saved in my contacts as 'Mr. Famous') that I got there safely. 

**Joe is asking me who you are**

He means.. Joe Mazzello. One of the dudes from Jurassic Park. Wow. 

**tell him its ur new bff**

He's typing. 

**He said to stay away and that the position is filled**

I laugh about that for the rest of the night. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope everyone liked this!! Please give me feedback or suggestions and tell your friends to come read  
> X

**Author's Note:**

> whoop! tell me what you think and let me know if i made any mistakes; i hope y'all enjoy this


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